


Unwelcome and Unexpected

by Nerd_of_Camelot



Series: Catharsis [1]
Category: DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anti-Hero Red X, Author Projecting onto Dick Grayson, Choosing To Get Help, Depression, Dick Grayson Gets a Hug, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson-centric, Established Relationship, Jason Todd is a good brother, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Non-Graphic Drowning, Suicidal Thoughts, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, Villains, let dick have healthy relationships and a real support system, please still be careful reading this though, rated mature becuase i don't want younguns reading this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:07:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23643592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nerd_of_Camelot/pseuds/Nerd_of_Camelot
Summary: Dick falls off of a bridge during a fight he's not part of.He realizes some things, afterwards.Like that he probably needs help, because boredom and focusing on everyone else's feelings isn't an appropriate reaction to drowning and being resuscitated.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Red X, Dick Grayson/Red X, Jason Todd & Red X
Series: Catharsis [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1712026
Comments: 2
Kudos: 119





	Unwelcome and Unexpected

**Author's Note:**

> This is 99% self-projection ‾\\_(ツ)_/‾
> 
>  **Trigger warnings:** Mild suicidal thoughts, non-graphic drowning, and generally not-great feelings.
> 
> This didn't bother me to write and read back over but please be careful regardless. And (hypocritical as this is to say) if you're feeling like this, please talk to somebody, okay? You deserve better.

This wasn’t exactly how he expected his day to go, he had to admit.

When he’d climbed onto his motorcycle and started heading back toward Gotham, Red X somewhere behind him and making sure he wasn’t seen leaving the old tower or stalked from that point onward, he’d had his mind primarily on going to B’s place, spending some time with his brothers, and generally trying to have a good time. He was out of costume (Alfred hated it when he came in the front door wearing that thing), taking what was by all means a leisurely ride up the highway toward Gotham from Jump, and everything seemed…

Well, everything seemed  _ okay, _ by most estimates.

Like, sure, he kind of felt like he was dying and he’d had to give himself a  _ hell _ of a kick in the ass to get out of bed with X and  _ actually _ go see B and his brothers, but other than that? Everything was fine. It was a nice morning, he felt less like he was dying than normal, and X was going to be with him the whole day out of costume getting acquainted with his family since they’d never met the man under the mask before like he had.

It was gonna be lit.

But he should have known, should have  _ guessed, _ that any day he managed to start feeling sort of okay without anyone else trying to cheer him up was bound to go off the tracks sooner rather than later.

It started with a traffic jam―he noticed traffic slowing down around him and he frowned. That was just what he needed… But it was just a traffic jam, right? Worst case scenario he showed up a little later than he intended to. Whatever. B and the others would understand. He couldn’t control traffic.

But after a moment, after he’d ground to a halt along with everyone else, he realized that it wasn’t just that traffic had stopped on its own. There was something  _ wrong. _

… There was a fight going on in the middle of the bridge.

It looked serious, from his vantage point here, and he felt his stomach start to sink. Great. Just great. Perfect, in fact. He was going to have to find somewhere to change into costume and get in there and help. That was his  _ job. _ And he couldn’t just wait around for X to do it instead, despite how much the thief insisted that he take a break and let him handle this sort of thing.

But this was a bridge, and there weren’t terribly many places to change.

People started backing up in their cars, and he had to put his bike in reverse to keep from being squished by the minivan in front of him who apparently didn’t care he was behind them. He weaved into a different lane, this one mostly empty, and looked around as he came to a stop again. All of the traffic in this lane was behind him, now, and quickly backing away. He was still surrounded on all other sides though.

… He’d just have to hope that X was quick.

He sighed, considering throwing his bike in reverse again. There wasn’t anything he could do right now―too many witnesses and too big a chance that someone innocent would get caught in the crossfire.

He’d have to find somewhere to change and hope he got back here in time to help.

Or, well, that was the idea until one of the bridge cables to his right snapped and the whole thing rocked dangerously with the force. He heard several people scream and he just about ate his handlebars, personally. He just barely managed to avoid the broken nose or concussion that slamming his face into them would have caused, but the strain on his wrists and elbows wasn’t something he was looking forward to dealing with later. He winced and started to throw his bike into reverse, thinking he could just fling himself down the empty lane ass backwards and probably make it out in better shape than if he just sat here any longer.

But another of the bridge cables snapped right as he got some momentum.

He veered unwillingly to the side and smacked into the railing hard enough that his bike pulled itself out from under him and kept going down the road in the split second it took for him to realize what had happened. He thumped onto the pavement with a groan. Considered, for a second, that any normal person would have screamed in response to all of this, but pushed the thought aside as he tried to pick himself up.

Something landed heavily somewhere in front of him. The guardrail spontaneously detached itself from the supports, swinging out over the river and taking him with it.

Again, he thought that anyone else, anyone  _ with sense, _ would have screamed.

He just grunted and set about pulling himself back toward the bridge as quickly as he could. Once he got his hands around the support the rail  _ was _ still attached to, he started to pull himself up and hoped his bike was still in one piece wherever it had ended up.

His heart pounding in his ears felt so out of place with the lack of fear or anxiety he felt right at that moment. He was fine. He was going to  _ be _ fine. He’d get back onto the bridge, he’d get out of here, and everything would be fine. Whatever. Not the worst day he’d ever had and certainly not the worst he’d have for the rest of his life.

But he looked up, while he was pulling himself up, and for just one second felt anxious.

Before him was one of the people who had been in the fight―clearly a metahuman of some kind, or a masked vigilante otherwise. Were they one of the villains? One of the heroes? It was impossible to tell, since he’d never seen any of the people in this fight before. But the anxiety that sparked in his gut quickly left as he pulled himself up higher.

Then, very suddenly, there was a foot in his face.

He felt his nose crack.

Then he felt his grip falter, fail.

And then, he felt the air rushing past him.

For a second he didn’t really feel anything, emotionally. He blinked up, unsure, at the costumed person who had kicked him off. Wasn’t really  _ scared, _ just kind of confused.

And then…

_ Then… _

The fear hit him.

Dear  _ God, _ he was falling. He was  _ falling _ and he was parallel to the river and he was going to  _ die. _ It was going to hurt so fucking bad when he hit. It was going to  _ suck. _

He wasn’t even going to get to die  _ fast. _

He…

He’d wanted to kill himself for a while.

A…  _ Long… _ While.

Years.

Probably since his parents died.

But he always found things and people to stay alive for. Reasons to keep breathing and not give up. Lately it hadn’t really been enough to keep him from  _ fantasizing _ but he’d still been pulling through. Just trucking on like he was supposed to. All he had to do was keep enough control of himself to not stab himself in the throat and he’d be fine, you know?

And, honestly? He was running out of reasons to delay the inevitable.

Like… All the people he’d been staying alive to help? They could take care of themselves, now. Some of them always could. Tim and Damian were grown-up enough to patrol on their own. Jason hated being coddled. B… Didn’t really need him as long as he had the other three. Alfred would get over it if he was gone.

… Those people he wanted to help and protect? Some of them wouldn’t miss him at all. Some wouldn’t even notice he was gone. Some… Well, they’d  _ miss  _ him, sure, they might be  _ sad _ for a while, but they’d  _ get over it. _ They’d move on. For all the special unique things he had going on for himself, he wasn’t actually anything special.

He wasn’t irreplaceable.

Jason, Tim, and Damian proved that  _ nicely. _

Guys like him were a dime a dozen.

...

Still.

He’d been wanting to kill himself for a good decade or so already, had thought of all the ways he could do it and even had dreams about it. Dreams that should have been scary but… Weren’t.

And now?

In the face of probably breaking most of his bones hitting the water and drowning afterwards?

… He wasn’t actually scared of the whole  _ dying _ part.

He was just scared of the pain.

He was scared of how much it was going to suck for his body. He was scared of the fact that his body was going to react whether he felt he needed to react or not. He was going to go under and if he was conscious after the impact and the submersion his body was going to flail and kick and struggle for breath and he wasn’t going to be able to get any.

_ That _ was what he was scared of.

Because he knew, emotionally? It wasn’t going to bother him.

He was going to go under, and his body was going to panic, and all he’d be thinking about would be the pain and how badly he didn’t want X to have to find him floating down the river after he was gone. Like, of all the ways he could go…

He blinked his eyes back open, not sure when he’d closed them. How long had it been? Seconds? Minutes?

He was falling, still.

The bridge was getting further and further away.

Something else dropped past him, faster and with more force. The water from its crash into the river tapped at the back of his neck. And then another thing was falling, on the same side, disrupting the water again and spraying it across his back.

… He might have a chance.

He might not break enough bones to keep him from swimming to safety.

X might not have to find him floating in the river.

And, really? That was the only thing that he cared about. He didn’t give enough of a shit about himself to care if he died but he cared about how much it would fuck X up to have to pull him out of the river, water-logged and cold.

He took a deep breath.

Close his eyes.

Something else rushed past him, on both sides.

The water splashed up around him.

He went with it on the way back down.

And as soon as the water closed over his head, everything went black.

The next thing he felt was a sharp pressure on his ribs… Or, well, he was  _ pretty _ sure that was his ribs.

Another stab of pressure.

Water sloshing where there shouldn’t be water.

He choked.

Heard a soft gasp.

Felt another jab against his ribs―someone was trying to push the water out for him. Trying to get him to clear his airways.

He choked again, and his body reacted before he could fully process anything else.

He blinked teary eyes open for half a second but squeezed them shut again when the first cough heaved water out of his lungs  _ immediately. _

And he spent the next few moments choking and heaving and spitting until he could breathe and the hand on his back at last stopped thumping to help him cough it all out. It was the  _ worst _ thing he had ever experienced. He never wanted to wake up after drowning again.  _ Ever. _

Like, fuck. Next time, for reasons completely unrelated to the fact he wanted to kill himself,  _ just let him die from drowning, thanks. _

He coughed again, spitting a small trace of the remaining river water out of his mouth.

“... You with me, D?” X asked, and he just kind of wanted to sink into the ground now, actually.

Just.

Disappear into the ground.

… But at least X hadn’t had to pull out a corpse.

“Unfortunately,” He croaked in response, and heard X take a breath.

“C’mon, let’s get you up.”

And he leaned against X and tried to stay awake (but not necessarily fully  _ conscious) _ through all the shit that came afterwards. X fielded any questions aimed at him and it took him a long time to realize his family was there. Watching. Waiting.

He tucked in closer to X when he realized that. Suppressed his shivers a little better.

And Jason was there, with that friend of his―Roy? Arsenal. And he watched Jason give him a considering look when he started going out of his way to not shiver.

X handed him off to someone he hadn’t ever met a little while later, and she checked him over for any injuries and… Well, through whatever exactly it was she had at her disposal she…  _ removed the remaining water from his lungs and stomach? _ However she did it, it was unpleasant. But she was as gentle as she could be and he just… Didn’t really care much.

“You’re handling having almost drowned surprisingly well.” She said, after a moment of letting him catch his breath again.

“Am I?” He asked, not surprised at how raspy and disinterested his tone was.

She quirked a brow. “Are you?”

Mm, that may not have been the right thing to say. Or at least not the right tone to say it in.

… Time to put those years of acting lessons from B to good use.

“I dunno,” He said, looking away and making sure he kept the same tone, “I mean I guess? I’m kinda freakin’ out but it’s just not…” He made a vague motion, “Y’know?”

She nodded, slowly, like that actually made sense.

“... I think I might just still be in shock,” He said, “Probably gonna have a panic attack or something later.”

That got him a sympathetic look and a pat on the shoulder. She said some other stuff but he’d checked out again before she even started. He nodded along anyway, he was pretty sure. And then, finally, X was there again.

“He good?” He asked, coming to his side and wrapping an arm hesitantly around him, but focusing on her.

“He should be,” She nodded, and he was pretty sure she’d said that to him already.

Oh well.

“Okay, awesome. Thanks.” And X was sort of tugging him away, arm protectively circling him and guiding him away. “You with me?” He asked, more softly, when they were more or less alone.

“Mm.” Was the clever response he gave.

“Gonna need a clearer answer, D.” X said, and didn’t sound exasperated at all, thankfully.

… Why was that the  _ only _ thing he was worried about? Why was he  _ only _ concerned with how everyone else was dealing with this and how they were feeling? He just almost drowned, and all he can bring himself to give a shit about is not stepping on people’s toes. Not pissing everyone off. Not making everyone worry about him.

Like.

This  _ might _ be a revolutionary thought, but… Shouldn’t…

Shouldn’t he be more concerned with the fact that he almost just died? Wouldn’t that make sense? Wasn’t that what’s expected? Wasn’t...

Ugh, it didn’t matter.

He didn’t have the energy to debate himself on how he should be reacting to this. He was tired. That was the only thing he really felt―tired. Maybe annoyed, somewhere on a different level. Beyond where he could be bothered to reach.

“I just wanna go home.” He sighed, leaning against X and hoping that that was enough of an answer.

X went a little stiff for a second, then relaxed, and sighed as well. “Yeah, okay. Lemme…”

“I’m good to ride, X.” He said, when he seemed to reach for his phone. “... Maybe not alone. But I’m good.”

“...Okay.” X paused, turning his head to press his forehead gently against his―he actually felt a little warm at the action. Always did. It was X’s go-to for when he couldn’t actually give him a kiss. “Then lemme tell Bats I’m taking you home, okay? He’ll freak if he doesn’t know where we went.”

“‘Kay,” And he let X drag him off toward where B and the others were gathered.

“I’m takin’ D home,” X announced, when the whole family turned to acknowledge him, “You have my number and our address if you need us, right?”

B nodded, and it had been a while since he’d had to read the guy’s face from under that cowl, but… He looked worried, Dick thought. “Be careful.” B said, “Let me know when you get there.”

“Sure thing, Bats.” X said, and when no one else immediately spoke they were off again.

The X-cycle was a welcome sight. The idea of going home made him feel… A little bit better? He wasn’t sure what it made him feel but it made him fell  _ something. _ Something he thought was positive.

“... My bike probably bit it during that,” He found himself muttering as he climbed onto the X-cycle at X’s back, wrapping his arms around him.

“I thought I saw it on my way here,” X said, by way of answer, “Pretty sure it didn’t take any major damage.”

“... Woo.”

That got a half-snort out of X.

They had to go the long way home, since the bridge wasn’t in any shape for them to cross it at this point. It could carry some traffic if it had to, but it would need a serious fixing before the regular amount could resume using it. Better if they just stayed off of it.

He kept his face buried in the back of X’s neck and his shoulder the whole time. He was dizzy and still a little confused and seeing everything move past had made him want to puke. So he’d pressed his face to X’s back and didn’t think. Didn’t acknowledge anything happening. Just zoned out.

He still felt it when the bike came to an uneasy stop, and when he popped his head up he remembered why. X was still in costume. He couldn’t come in with him through the front door, and Dick… Really wasn’t up for climbing up the fire escape to get in.

“Meet you up there,” He said, softly, bumping his head softly against X’s.

“Yeah,” X replied, and he still sounded uneasy.

He guessed he couldn’t blame him.

He  _ had _ fallen off a bridge and almost died the last time he’d been left to do anything alone. That was cause for some concern.

… That wasn’t fair. He knew X wasn’t worried he’d get himself killed if he left for a couple of minutes. He  _ knew. _ He knew that X was just worried about him in general, didn’t want to let him out of his sight because he just didn’t want to be away from him in general. But it was hard to explain in a way that wouldn’t frame it as X now being worried he’d die.

X was… Worried no matter what. He didn’t usually  _ say _ it, but he showed it, and by now Dick knew the tells.

He climbed off the bike carefully, stumbling a little when he discovered he was still dizzy. Threw a glance around to see who had been able to see X drop him off.

… Didn’t look like anyone was really out right now. All the blinds on the block seemed to be closed. Cool.

But they still couldn’t chance it.

X drove off before he could say anything else, so he sighed and started making his way into their apartment building and, eventually, up to their apartment… Four floors up. It was a gruelling trip. He felt like he was going to puke pretty much the whole way up, and he guessed that was just the consequence of letting himself be conscious of his surroundings again. He’d spent so much of the time between waking up and getting here just kind of floating through on autopilot that he wouldn’t have noticed he was dizzy.

He wished he could do  _ this _ on autopilot too, but that was just  _ asking _ for someone to sneak up on him while he was trying to get to his front door.

Once he got in, he went through the motions of locking the front door tight and stepping further into the apartment.

A shiver hit him.

Oh, fuck. Yeah. He’d fallen in the river.

He was still wearing the clothes he fell in the river in.

And most of him was dry from the wind of the ride but his chest was still  _ soaked _ from being pressed up against X’s equally soaked back for the whole ride. The air conditioning was coming for his fucking  _ life _ right now… Unintentionally.

He stumbled to the bedroom, still off-balance but not bothered enough to stop to get his bearings.

He stripped out of the half-wet clothes and tossed them into the hamper before he even started  _ looking _ for new clothes. Chose something suitably warm and started to head for the bathroom. Heard the bedroom window slide open, and X’s boots hit the floor, right as he was placing his clothes on the counter so he could take a warm shower before changing into them.

“D?”

“Bathroom.”

X popped his head in, and Dick threw a glance at the shower. Questioning. Waiting.

And X just nodded, disappearing for a second to strip off his wet costume as well and pick new clothes.

Once the door was closed and X was working on getting the shower to a reasonable temperature, Dick just, watched him. Observed the movement of his muscles under his skin, the set of his jaw, the creases at the corner of his eyes from squinting.

… He was lucky to have him, frankly.

“Okay, that should be good.” X announced, “Hop on in, sunshine.”

And Dick laughed, sort of. Huffed out an amused breath and shook his head.

Got into the shower anyway.

And X got in with him.

Held him when he got dizzier from the temperature change. Let him go limp against him for a while and didn’t so much as question it, really.

But eventually they got out of the shower, got dried off, got dressed.

Just more going through the motions.

… He almost died today, and aside from X being slightly more visibly worried than usual, nothing had changed.

“So I’m guessing those bruises are probably from when you feel off the bridge?” X asked, once they were in the living room and dressed.

“Mhm.” He replied, eloquently.

… He hadn’t even noticed he had bruises, but there wasn’t anywhere else for him to have gotten them. So it wasn’t like it was a lie. But now that he knew he had bruises, he could feel  _ exactly _ where. Across his back, where he’d hit the railing, the places where he’d hit trying to catch himself…

His face.

He was pretty sure his nose was broken.

“... Is my nose crooked at all?” He asked, curiosity overriding everything else for a second.

“... Not really? It  _ is _ bruising though.”

“Fucker,” Was what Dick came up with to say in reply, and he saw X’s bewildered expression. “... I didn’t fall off the bridge so much as I  _ almost _ fell off and then some rudeass kicked me in the face when I tried to pull myself back up.”

“... Uh huh.”

That tone told Dick a lot more than X probably wanted it to―like that he was probably going to be telling B that detail when he got a chance, and if he could find any trace of who had  _ dared, _ he was going to kick the shit out of them in return. That made him feel kind of warm again.

… Always did.

X just had a habit of doing that, he guessed―doing and saying things that, even just temporarily, made Dick feel sort of like being alive was pretty cool. Like it was worth it. Like it wasn’t all just a pile of stupid shit and being  _ tired _ all the time.

X made him actually sort of want to stay alive.

He guessed that was the reason he cared so much about how X felt as opposed to the fact that he’d fallen off of a bridge and almost died today.

X was, like, the primary reason lately that he was even  _ trying. _ He made it feel  _ worth _ it. If X was angry at him, or more upset about this whole situation, then nothing would feel right.

… He should probably. Erm.

Do something about that.

Like.

He was pretty sure that at this point, this wasn’t normal. Or wasn’t something that  _ should _ be.

Thinking about it, with a couple of degrees of separation, he was… This was unhealthy, wasn’t it? Pinning all his reasons for living on one person.

“... Hey X?” He asked, after a long moment of silence.

He’d already weighed all of his words carefully. He’d already put a lot of thought into this. He just had to  _ say _ it. Just had to get the words out there.

“Yeah, sugar?”

X was working on something, somewhere off in they entry-hall area. Probably making sure his at-home gadgets were where they were supposed to be. Dick was on the couch. That… Well, that made it easier. He didn’t have to look him in the eyes when he said this.

“I think…” He trailed, anyway, and had to fight to start back up, huffing in annoyance at himself, “I think I need to start going to therapy.”

There was a brief silence.

“Yeah?” X finally asked.

“... Yeah.” Dick managed, taking a breath.

“Any particular reason why?” X ventured, after another silence.

“I just…” Okay, he’d prepared for this. He knew what to say. “Boredom… Boredom shouldn’t be my response to almost dying, y’know?” He heard X take a slow breath, and continued as strongly as he could, “Enough time has passed by now I should be freaking out if I’m gonna freak out but I still just… I don’t feel anything. Or I don’t know what I feel. Whatever it is there’s not very much of it. And that’s… That’s not good.”

Yet another silence.

Finally, “Do you want me to cross-check with Bats about good therapists?”

“I’d appreciate it, yeah.”

“Okay.”

“... Thanks.”

And X was suddenly there, pressing a kiss to the side of his head as he leaned over the back of the couch. He accepted the affection and tried not to feel nasty for just dumping that on him.

“Anything for you, sugar.” X said, very seriously, into his hair. “I’m glad you told me.”

And, sure, Dick hadn’t told him  _ everything.  _ But he’d told him enough.

“Now.” X said, as he pulled back, “I dunno about you, but I’m starved, so I’m gonna go grab a pizza and some ice cream. I’ll probably call Bats on the way. And  _ you _ sit here and relax, okay? Just. Take a breather. Put on a movie and kick back.”

… He’d told him more than he thought he did, apparently. Or X just picked up on it.

He couldn’t help laughing, a little bit. “What if I want to clean?”

“No,” Came X’s immediate, firm answer, “Relax.”

He laughed again, “Okay, okay.”

“If I walk back in this apartment and you’re doing anything  _ except _ relaxing, I will scream.” X warned, already heading for the door.

He let himself descend into snickers.

He heard X laugh a little before the door closed behind him.

Out of paranoia, mostly, Dick did get up after a moment to make sure all the locks were secure, and to slide the safety chain into place despite knowing it wouldn’t do much against anyone with above-average strength.

And then he settled back down on the couch, determined to actually do as X asked and relax. He’d have to get up and undo the safety chain for him when he got back, but whatever. That was fine.

He wrapped himself up in the blanket from the back of the couch and got comfy.

It took a good fifteen minutes for a knock to sound on the door. Not X’s knock. He always knocked in a pattern. Knocked to the drums from a section of a song he liked―this was a simple tap, tap, tap. No beat. Just three simple taps.

He drew himself up off of the couch carefully, mindful of the way he was starting to be acutely aware of everywhere he should be sore. Tossed the blanket onto the cushions and paced silently to the door.

He wasn’t sure who he expected to be on the other side, when he peeked out the peep hole, but it wasn’t Jason.

Still, he popped the door open with safety-chain still in place so there was only really enough room to peek out at him.

“X isn’t here right now, if you’re looking for him.” He said, tiredly.

Jason frowned, just a little, and said, “Actually, I came to check up on  _ you, _ Big Bird.”

He blinked.

Started to close the door and watched Jason’s face fall just a little. Winced even though he wasn’t actually closing the door on him because he didn’t want him here. He just needed to undo the safety chain.

Which he did, and promptly popped the door all the way back open.

He didn’t say anything, but Jason entered anyway. He knew.

And Dick closed the door again, re-did most of the locks but chose to keep the safety chain undone. He wasn’t sure he could make another trip to the door with the way his body was starting to shake again. He must be awfully hungry or otherwise low on sugar or iron.

He’d deal with it when the time came.

“Sorry it’s a mess.” He said, as he led Jason into the living room from the half-hall, “I’d have cleaned up, but X said if I was doing anything but relaxing when he came back he’d scream.”

It scored a half-startled chuckle from Jason.

Cool.

And Jason just sat in the living room with him and talked, mostly. Didn’t ask him any questions to begin with, just bitched a little bit about the fight earlier and made snide comments about some of the new heroes who had come around to try and help. And once he’d gotten Dick sort of snickering along with him,  _ then… _

Then he asked.

“How are you though?  _ Really?” _

“I don’t know,” He replied, truthfully, “I’m feeling  _ something _ but I’m not sure what it is. You know?”

And Jason nodded like that made all the sense in the world. “It’s overwhelming and boring at the same time, right? Like there’s so much, but it’s all beyond what you can be assed to parse out so you just kinda feel bored.”

“I―” He paused, “Yeah. Actually.”

It occurred to him then, faintly, that if  _ anyone _ knew sort of how he felt, it was probably Jason. Jason, who had died and come back. Who had died for  _ real _ and come back. Who had had to deal with it on his own even if he had plenty of people around to teach him new things. Learning to fight wasn’t the same as learning to feel things, or learning how to manage feelings.

Huh.

Well, at least he wasn’t alone, he guessed.

… He probably never was. That was cool.

God, he was going to be so mad at himself for ‘breaking’ like this later. For allowing himself to be weak in front of people. For  _ daring _ to ask for help.

“... X said he was gonna talk to B about finding a good therapist for me.” He said, without stopping to think of the consequences.

Jason went pale. “Whoa, wait, really?”

He nodded, “I… I asked him to.”

Some of the rigidity in Jason’s posture relaxed.

Dick chewed on his bottom lip.

Took a breath.

“I figure that feeling like this,” He made a vague motion at himself, which Jason thankfully understood, “Isn’t exactly the healthiest reaction to almost dying. And when put into perspective of the fact that I’ve kind of vaguely wanted to kill myself for  _ years _ I… Well. It’s probably past time that I start trying to get help.”

Jason cocked his head to the side a little, nodding slowly. He seemed to process it for a moment, then nodded more firmly. “Y’know what Big Bird? I’m real fuckin’ proud of you for that.”

Against all odds, it made Dick feel kind of warm.

… Yeah.

This was the right move to make. He was more and more sure of it with each moment. Even if he  _ was  _ mad at himself for this later, he wouldn’t be able to deny that it had felt good to make the decision to get help, and it had felt good to have that decision backed up and supported by his brother and his boyfriend. And for his brother to be proud of him for it? His brother who was notoriously bad at feelings and probably not known for his compassion among most circles, was  _ proud _ of him for choosing to seek help.

That felt good.

So it was going to suck, and it was going to be a  _ long _ road before he even  _ started _ to feel less like shit (he wouldn’t pretend therapy would magically make it better, he knew better than that), and he was probably going to want to give up over and over and over again, but… It was going to be worth it in the end.

He deserved better than floating through and depending on the people around him to keep him alive because he didn’t like himself enough to do it without having someone else to do it  _ for. _

X came back to them discussing some TV show that Jason was really into right now, and he just joined in while he tossed the two extra-large pizzas he’d gotten onto the coffee table and the ice cream into the freezer. Apparently X was into the show, too, and they were both happy to ramble about it to Dick for as long as he’d let them.

And he intended to let them for as long as they wanted.

Did he understand? No, not really. Were they happy to be talking about it? Yep. And that was what mattered. He’d try to understand and he’d listen and retain the information. It was easier than having to talk and it made them happy.

That was enough for him.

… And when X discreetly passed him a slip of paper with a name and a number on it, he knew that tonight was going to have to serve as further motivation to actually go through with this. He clutched the paper tightly and promised himself he’d call in the morning.

But for now?

He had pizza to eat and a show to be info-dumped to about.

**Author's Note:**

> Red X might seem... A little out of character. Especially for how I would normally write him. He's usually much more sassy, more joking - like in the show. But this fic needed a more serious X and I feel like this would be a situation where he'd _be_ more serious.
> 
> As for the ship of him and Dick, eh, pry it from my cold dead hands. I like them together in a healthy relationship. They both deserve it.
> 
> ... I'm of the opinion that Red X isn't a bad person. Just a selfish thief.
> 
> Anyways thanks for reading. Lemme know what you thought. I may not reply to all comments but I'll read every single one of them a couple hundred times over, I promise.


End file.
